


Ah, Home

by pyalgroundblz (acidtonguejenny)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Creative Anatomy, Domesticity, F/M, Hemipenis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/pyalgroundblz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scouts-Many-Marshes wasn't always home when Amida returned from journeying. Often enough, however, to notice her post-travel ritual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ah, Home

**Author's Note:**

> This story inspired by new characters, inside jokes, and the discovery that not all reptiles' penises are barbed :D

Scouts-Many-Marshes wasn't always home when Amida returned from journeying. Often enough, however, to notice her post-travel ritual.

She used it to wind down, he thought, from the road and the fighting. The slow, weary pace from wardrobe, to bookshelf, to wall rack as she unpacked her bulging bag. Handfuls of priceless gems, chunks of metal, expensive robes and ancient, musty books. And the weapons--large or small and devilishly sharp, cold to the touch and hissing with enchantments that spat as if eager for blood. The Daedric artifacts he despised; he swore that he could feel insidious _things_ wafting from them when she brought them into the house. She eventually consented to store most of the them somewhere else--he didn't know where, was only grateful. The few she carried constantly he…dealt with. 

After unloading her pack of loot down to the staples, they would commune in the kitchen. Would pull out the bathing tub together and fill it with water she heated with a spell. It was too small to be comfortable for him, paled further next to the waterways he dimly knew, and she--a full head taller, the height of a pure Altmer-- hadn't a chance. They shared a low-seated bench positioned by the hearth, and dipped into it.

He washed her down. Scrubbed away dirt and tomb-dust that seemed ingrained in her skin, gently cleared faded paint from around her eyes and mouth. She liked to stare at him while he did that, fix huge tawny eyes on him until he fidgeted. The giggles that always ensued broke the sense of fragility, and they became themselves again.

When he finished and Amida was wet and languid, hair dripping and hanging heavy around her face, she would take up a new cloth and return the favor. She brought home pots of oil that made him groan with pleasure when she worked them into his scales. They smelled like moss and marsh flowers, and seemed to peel off the Skyrim chill for a time.

Clean, warm and purring, they would then stagger upstairs to their bedroom. 

Scouts-Many-Marshes had only been with other Argonians before Amida. He'd known how to admire the soft-skinned races before her, and had been aware of her merits before they'd spoken, but…Her lack of tail had puzzled him, when they began to flirt. The first time they'd lain together he'd worried about his claws, sharp scales and her skin.

That was many, many couplings ago. He knew her body and her preferences, could read her well enough to guess how she wanted to be treated, and the same was true of her. 

He'd heard that males of the land-walking races had only one organ each. He hadn't quite believed it until that initial mating.

Amida coaxed his hemipenis free of his body, stroking the fuller right organ with intent. She didn't neglect the left--playing her fingers up and down it like a flutist. He rumbled into her neck, licked long strokes up her throat that made her laugh and sigh, deliberately catching her lips. 

Once inside, long golden legs tight around his sides, they struck a slow pace. Between his biology and her warriors' stamina, they went forever. Rocking and petting and cooing, reacquainting themselves with one other. They worked off of each other to go longer--she warmed until sweat ran from her hairline, and the heat she bled into him infused him with energy.

In the aftermath, with morning birdsong penetrating thick glass, she related new adventures and listened to gossip from around town, anecdotes from the Fishery. They spent the day straying no further from the bed than the kitchen, and he made it up to whatever kind soul took his shift in portions of Amida's loot. 

After they'd been married for a time, when the war ended and the various factions had shriveled or flourished under his love's attentions, and more caves than not had been explored, Amida was home more often for longer, and the ritual--their ritual--was less frequently enacted. But they had new ones, then.


End file.
